“I was sound asleep when I suddenly hear a knock at my bedroom door. My heart jumps. The pounding in my chest gets louder. Both children are standing at the door, both upset. ‘It’s 2:30 in the morning,’ I firmly reminded them. I am trying to figure out how I can self-isolate in my closet, but they keep finding me.”
“If they spend their days on iPads while you gather your thoughts, it’s okay. If you wanna sit in your pajamas, eat brownies, and watch Frozen 2 on repeat all day, that’s OKAY. If the house looks like a bomb site, who gives a crap. Really. No one is going to visit you anyway.”
“One week of air hugs through Facetime. One more week ahead of wondering if this will be the week we’ll run out of PPE completely. One more week ahead of uncertainty, of masking up and walking into the unknown. We will come out on the other side.”
“Don’t let your kids outside. Don’t leave them home if you go out. Give them fresh air. Keep them home. Is that a cough? Is the tightness in your chest anxiety or the virus? Just breathe. But don’t be irresponsible. That’s not sickness that’s your fear. It’s okay, we’re all stressed. Treat yourself to some junk food. Not too much. You need to keep your immune system up.”
“I head into the shower and visciously scrub my skin until my eczema flares up to match the raw, peeling skin behind my ears from wearing masks all day. I sleep alone, without my special someone. I park my car in crevices to power nap on a makeshift foam mattress in the back of my trunk after a 12-hour shift to head right into another 8-hour shift. I will continue to fight, no matter the obstacles.”
“This is the face of someone who feels punished for trying to be the ‘good guy.’ My job as an ER nurse is just that, my job. This is my current situation.”
“We haven’t been publicly ‘open’ about who has the ‘problem.’ We don’t feel the need to share it everywhere because it doesn’t matter and quite frankly, it’s no one’s business. At this point, it changed to the reality we may not ever have kids, period.”
“I have never met them. I do not know their faces, surnames, ages, job titles or nationalities, but I know their numbers, and if I ever need ‘any help with groceries over the coming weeks,’ they are close. I’ve read that note, several times over, tears welling in my eyes as I remember I am not alone.”
“Yesterday the teachers and administrators from my daughter’s school decided to put on a car parade. As her teacher drove away, she shouted out the window, ‘I love you, Campbell!’ They all knew her. Not just her homeroom or specials teachers, but every single one. As a special needs parent, I can’t explain how much that kind of acceptance means.”
“His doctors were hopeful we could take him out of the house for the first time EVER this summer. We could introduce him to his family members and friends. We could let him play on a playground, like a normal toddler. However, now our future is unknown again as the pandemic has erupted.”
